


Curls

by hato



Series: Untitled Series [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-02
Updated: 2012-06-02
Packaged: 2017-11-06 15:41:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/420508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hato/pseuds/hato
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is trying to ignore John.  It is not working.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Curls

**Author's Note:**

> Occurs after S1Ep3 ( and the story Little Bit). But can be read as friendship, with no direct inferences to their one night together after The Pool.

Sherlock strides through the sitting room, fresh from the shower. Pyjamas and dressing gown and a damp towel hung across the back of his neck and shoulders. Protecting his nape from the still wet tendrils already curling slightly around his ears.  He settles comfortably in his chair by the hearth and pulls his laptop from the crack between the arm and the cushion.  The sunlight flooding through the uncovered windows feels marvelous in the chill of early spring.   
  
He signs into his website, swiftly deleting any messages that are obviously a waste of his time.  _Domestic. Domestic. Double Domestic. Blatant insurance fraud. Boring..._ One involves a clean toxicology and clear history of mental health but reported intoxicated and unstable behavior before death. And antique farm equipment. _ Trip to the countryside. John will enjoy it _ . Sherlock smirks, saves the email and presses on.   
  
Attempts to ignore the piercing gaze he can feel burning a figurative hole through his temple.   
  
John is sitting on the other side of the room, on the sofa. Sherlock had glimpsed a cup of tea, a paperback Western and a massive file from Bart’s. A variety of photos and reports of ‘unusual’ C.O.D.s that Sherlock had insisted would be good research for John in his spare time.  John seems to be only mildly interested.   
  
Apparently, John is more interested in Sherlock’s profile.  Perhaps trying to set Sherlock’s head ablaze with his thoughts alone.    
  
It’s amusing. For the first hour.    
  
Now it’s simply annoying.  Especially as John leaves the sofa and casually ambles about the flat, looking out the windows, sorting piles of papers and books. Working his way closer to Sherlock in his favorite chair until he is right behind him, partially blocking the lovely warm sunlight.   
  
“ You’re staring.”  Sherlock doesn’t look up from his screen. Continues to type as he watches the shifting patterns of light across the arm of the chair.   
  
It changes again, the shadow moving more to the side. John’s lower body coming back into his peripheral. “ Your hair.”    
  
“ Afraid you’ll have to be a bit more specific, John.” Sherlock shoots off a reply email and begins surfing the news sites.  _Something somewhere_ must be happening, have happened, will happen.  Keeps just enough of his attention on John to deal with whatever insignificant fancy his flatmate has embarked upon.   
  
He can hear the soft crushing of the carpet under John’s feet. John is only a step away from Sherlock’s chair, just behind it.  “ It’s just. Your hair just sorta does that. On its own. Doesn’t it?”  Voice closer, John leaning down.  John’s fingers in his hair, gently handling a single lock.   
  
Nothing is currently happening. And John is being exceedingly odd. For now, that is better than being boring. Though it borders on being irritatingly stupid. Sherlock turns his head, tugging his hair from John’s loose grasp, and lifts a brow. “ Does what, exactly?”   
  
John straightens up, hands back at his sides, but keeps his gaze just above Sherlock’s forehead. “ You know.” He raises a hand to his own neatly shorn head, two fingers outstretched. Makes a furious little spiraling motion at his temple, that ends with all his fingers splayed out empathically. John’s dark blue eyes are bright with an inordinate amount of amazement as he makes an accompanying goofy face for his goofy hand gestures.   
  
Sherlock can only stare. John has obviously gone barking mad. Or drank from the juice carton Sherlock forgot to label as an experiment.   
  
His silence and confused expression is enough to spur John into further explanation. “ The curls. You don’t do anything to your hair to get them. It just dries that way. Naturally. ”  Awed tone of voice. Like his praises after one of Sherlock’s meretricious explanations.   
  
No idea what to say to this. Sherlock screws his face up and leans away as John slowly leans down as he speaks, getting closer and closer.  John’s eyes are latched firmly on the spill of dark waves just over Sherlock’s eyes. Studying them intently. Sherlock gets his tongue back, and a few wits. “ Of course, not. No more than you do to yours. Other than run a comb through it upon occasion.”     
  
John does not appear to be listening. Much too focused on Sherlock’s hair. “ All that talk about Jim in IT-”   
  
Sherlock’s gaze widens instantaneously at the mention of Moriarity.   
  
“ - and I was thinking, ‘ Jesus, you’re one to talk with that GQ model’s mop you’ve got on your head’ and-”   
  
And then narrows again as Sherlock realizes where this conversation is going. “ John.”   
  
“ ‘Course I’ve never seen any product in the bathroom, but I thought maybe it’s the really fancy stuff and you hide it in that barren vault you call a bedroom-”  
  
“ John.”  
  
“ - haven’t seen any curling tongs, either, but I figure you must improvise with something from the kitchen-”   
  
“ John!” Sherlock loses his patience, bellowing out. He’s practically draped over the opposite chair arm, pulling his head out of range of John’s invasive presence. For God’s sake, Sherlock rarely feels so unnerved by his flatmate’s attention. Correction. He’s  _never_ felt this unnerved by John’s attention. “ I have curly hair! It, as you so plainly and rightly stated before, ‘ just does this’ without any assistance!”  Sherlock ignores the heat in his face. Abruptly sits up, nearly bashing his head against John’s face, and putting his whole focus on his laptop. Ending this absurd conversation once and for all. Doesn’t want to know what instigated John’s curiosity or where John had intended it to lead.   
  
He tosses the towel back over his damp head. Hiding.  _NO_. Removing the distraction.   
  
Fortunately for them both, John’s reflexes are sharp as ever.  Sherlock is grateful the man whips upright before they collide. A  headache is already beginning to form at his temples from mere indignation and Sherlock really does not want to add to it.   
  
“ Alright, alright.” John’s voice. Amused. Chuckling quietly. “ No need to get your knickers in a twist.”   
  
Sherlock’s mouth thins into a petulant line. He pulls his legs up into the chair, laptop like a shield on his thighs, edges of the towel acting like blinders and blocking out the rest of the room. Quickly finds a website on antique violins. Sherlock doesn’t turn his head to watch John walk back to his spot on the sofa. Merely listens to the soft whisper of fabric on fabric, stocking feet on the carpet.   
  
Listens to John give a little sigh, under his breath. Quiet.  “ I think they’re brilliant.”   
  
Sherlock pauses with his fingers over the keyboard. Feels the heat flare up, knows his ears are turning pink. Good thing they’re covered by his curls. The curls that John thinks are brilliant.   
  
He doesn’t turn around. And he doesn’t answer. Instead, Sherlock eases his mobile from his dressing gown pocket. Keeps it hidden by his body as he composes a new text.   
  
_Thank you. I find your greys quite distinguished looking- SH_  
  
Sherlock allows himself the barest hint of a smirk as he hits ‘ _send_ ’.    
  
 **end**


End file.
